cock man oppressor

in the words of the cheebah monkeys:"just one little binger, to brighten up your day"

I overheard some old guys talking.

PCU, a glorious film. a wonderful exploration of college life. circa seventeen years ago jesus has it been that long?

exploring the horrors and the folly of any stubborn, aggressive, radical viewpoints and the joys and glories of smoking, grilling, playing loud music and hockey indoors. Simultaneously! Irreverence in general. Hippie olympics. The so-called and aforementioned cheebah monkeys have an impressive bench, obviously culminating in a very adept canine. but even the dog can't do much if some preppie pre-frosh scampers across the pitch mid-game.

that weasel snagged the 'bee!

many important lessons to be learned: "You're going to wear the shirt of the band you're going to go see? Don't be that guy."

Gutter, i'm sorry but the man at the liquor store gives no shit about you missing your ride to the show.

Probably in a parking lot somewhere, picking his nose. But hey, George Clinton might just give you a ride back to the Pit.

Stay on your side!
Stop the penis party!
well, if you see her, could you tell her mr. pokey stopped by?
chuck, porterhouse, ribeye, I know how you feel.


I have so much homework and instead I am watching movies. but now, a dramatic retelling of a recent event-

"I saw a woman outside, walking in the road. She took five or so steps frontward, then two turned around, walking backward, with her aft end forward. Only to turn right way round again. She did this repeatedly, prior to her disappearance from the view of my kitchen window"
-"well I wish you would have let me know"
"I was transfixed! She walked with a new world in toe...she could have had OCD or agorophobia. perhaps she was being followed, by a person or paranoia"
-"maybe she just didn't want to get hit by a car. there's no sidewalk on this road."
"d'accord"


I hate sundays. it promises a splendor it suppresses, refuses to provide. Who appointed the sun in dis?

Crocodile valentine (part two of 2)

(this is for someone that I love)


in the virtual volume of vacancy, I
have charted a course through the vacuum of time.
connecting the dots, i'm clearing the way
for a thought to come through that i can't think to say.

it's very important, in matters like these,
to steady oneself and sway with the breeze,
so just slip from your window and float fancy free,
kick off your slippers and foot-loose with me,
fly the water, walk the sky, swim the trees,
the dangers so distant they don't dare disagree,
dancing and screaming to the tune that you please,
bearing in heart to make mind more at ease.

and yet i still wait, for til now there's nothing,
while i'm weighing the wind for everything, anything.

preferably something profusely profound,
but i tickle my tongue and it won't make a sound,
so i type on my keyboard, building twaddle abound,
but its not as much typing as a pissed sort of pound
to synthesize speech that will delight and astound
a dish that's developed, crisp, golden-browned
but i bellow and bluster and burn to the ground
and I try to pinpoint the pain and expound
but what comes from my mouth is the howl of a hound
so i run to the words and again we go round

then i looked at the way the wind had been wound
and how many ups were accordingly downed,
and that even some of the verbs had been noun’d,
and only to find in my mind what i found -

sometimes i can't think of a poetic way to say how wonderful you are.


(valentine's day is lonely)

"official clockwork mechanical man: does everything but live" (the valentine edition, part I)

ladies and gentlemen...drumroll please...I...jonnaeaquus tiresias boomerang...(waves arms to signal his desire for more enthusiasm, more fervor, more drumrolling suspense)........



......needed a haircut.

like a shaggy dog.

now I have one. Got one. I have gotten a haircut. It's nice, I guess. It is certainly lighter on the neck, and the eyes maybe?

and NOW I present to you several song fragments that communicate how i feel about things...


"It's a trap, it's a vicious trap...it's a map, it's a worthless smile...someone somewhere far away"

"tenth avenue freeze-out... I'm on my own, and I can't go home"

"I got dreams but nothing to hope for...lady, lady, keep your distance, I mean no good."


Damn you Avett Bros. for representing and supporting all of my cultural values so well.

I think I'm'onna drink vodka-redbulls the whole weekend. Just for the holiday. You see, being that valentine's day is coming up, I thought it would be humorously ironic to tempt cardiovascular failure.

Anyhow, I have felt like a disgusting human being lately, and it doesn't help that there are several places on my bedroom wall occupied by boogers. That's right people - boogers. They've dried into hard lumps over the paint next to my bed. And that only encapsulates a small part of my neuroses as a human being. So you might imagine the mush I have in my melon.

somebody date me. preferably someone who can cook - my microwaves are mad at me. and the oven is trying to kill me. I think it's upset because sometimes I forget to turn it off.

so raise up your glass for conflicting ideas,
and drain the whole drink so they'll all disappear.

i've got smoke, pills and powders, and needles and shots
and i'm shooting the noose to get out of the knots.

what the fuck ever that means.


happy day-before-valentine's-day.

what i do instead of productive question mark...(s)

one time i just wrote a very long poem instead of doing my homework. i decided it was too personal and i erased it. you've hurt me too much in the past, internet. i can't go throwing my feelings all over the place any more, because any one of those feelings could land on, like, some sort of rocky soil, and then what happens? germination? girl, i don't think so!

so i still have all that homework. i think i might just continue to avoid it - do one of those purposeful all-nighters. what's the worst that could happen?

in conclusion, friends, i will now be going for a run. because apparently that's something i do? used to. anyhoo. its a particularly bad idea, because (a) I have been smoking too much, too recently, and (b) i am recovering from a sinus infection or something. what's probably going to happen is, if there's still some sort of sinus infection-type bacteria floating around in my system, i will suck it into my lungs and get some kind of respiratory infection, especially if i'm not sleeping tonight. so i look forward (or whichever way time faces...hands...clockward) to meeting you on the battlefield, sunrise. just to give you fair warning, i will have at least 21 hours on you. advantage. headstart. so you best be ready.


i say good day.

I only started to think i was jesus when the traffic lights started to change for me. but only when i walk.

the early morning has a sense that can only be described as a gentle elegance. Or maybe a quiet purity. But that negates my first sentence, so fuck that noise.

the moisture in your tired eyes
sends light beams shooting dice their size

I like how recently every night of the weekend has been its own little adventure, full measures of success and failure. Which is good, because the weeks are long, and often epic defeats in terms of morale. So buck up, missy, because life is just a limbo of a stripped down sort of symbol and you only make it simple by pumping up the music and lowering the bar. Or is it raising the bar? The representation is a bit befuddled because tbe brain can't help but be muddled in the morning when the sun is missing and you've already missed most of the afternoon.

So get up offa that thang. shake it, you'll feel better. I promise. I heard it in a song.

I'm trying to write myself out of bed. Fairly ineffective. Better luck next time.

But I have things to do! I have to get around to hating the weekend for being mostly over already. For not being around when I needed it. But I suppose I fail to remember forgetting December. Because the weather's gotten warmer but the winter's just begun.

So hold out for some splendor, hold onto hope, keep your eyes peeled for the sun.

I have been pondering what inspires the very essence of the organism that is a human being to arrange its composition so as to navigate all efforts toward another human being.

And.

i think.

i might have an answer.




but it is only another quandry in itself. isn't that always the case dontcha find?



so i've got a mess more problems and this thought bubble has a long way to float, but its going somewhere. i hope it takes me with it.

they're called GRABOIDS! I would have spelled it with uh zee.

What a mood. These sure are confusing times we're all living in, people. Check ya neck, that's all I'm saying.

What to say...what to say? I don't think gin is my favorite drunk. I think I will stick to whiskey and tequila.

Oh, right. Winter break was alright. Uneventful. Unproductive. New year's eve was just a terrible experience for myself. For the most part. And this first week of classes was dreadfully strenuous. And I know it is only going to get exponentially worse as this semester progresses. And it will probably get so bad that I won't be able to focus on getting a job for the summer, so I won't get one. It seems life is dead-set on sustaining this malaise. But you know. whatever.

one thing i will say is that i spread peanut butter on my banana this morning. In a very sensual manner. But fer real folks, I have been doing it for awhile now, and it's a beautiful breakfast. Especially for hangovers. Very sensual hangovers. Ones during which you sense that you FEEL LIKE SHIT.

Dystopian today. That's probably not the right word. But when you look out and all you see is gloom and doom and mud and crud, what else can you see? I can't see the bright snow looking back at me, it's all cluttered with filth. And there's a piece in my eye. So there's no way the mess of fallen precipitation can sub in for the blankness left by the sun's bitter absence. It doesn't quite fulfill certain electromagnetic supply standards. Sometimes she comes out, though. I just wish I could hold on.

I like it when people say "dudn't". Or "doe'n't"?

I had a dream last night. You probably did too. But I remembered mine, which dudn't happen a lot. It was about a fire that burned the shit out of a building i was in. I don't remember if it was my fault. Totes probs.

The shelf at the foot of my bed is supporting several items right now, including:
-jar of creamy peanut butter (oh yeah, it wasn't just a euphemism people)
-butter knife resting gently across the lid of said jar
-mostly empty bottle of flintstone vitamins
-empty glass of water
-face lotion
-empty peel of banana, quickly browning
-small pair of scissors
-iPod(first generation nano with blue earbud headphones)
-mostly empty bottle of gin

And that means it's time to go folks.

Fuck me, right?